Dark & Light
by The Angel of London
Summary: Entries: 'The Diagon Alley Challenge' for Being A Wallflower. [Title near irrelevant.]
1. Confidant

**The Diagon Alley Challenge **

_**The Leaky Cauldron: **__Usually, when you go to the Leaky Cauldron, you're only there for a quick stop. So write a quick story – a drabble, to be precise. Minimum 100 words, maximum 500 words._

"It's not easy, you know, being the youngest yet the heir," the muttered to his companion. "My brother screwed up, so it's up to me to be ten times better than he should've been in the first place. Merlin, he's an idiot."

His companion kept quiet, but he could tell he agreed.

"I hate him, so much, because it's all _his fault_. I'm the one that carries the family onwards, I have to be the pride and joy of Mother and Father." He scoffed, "not that I have to do 'much' to make them proud.

"Of course not, it's only a blemish. It's only a tattoo. But, if I get that Mark..."

He glanced at his confidant, a sad look in his eyes. "I don't hate him... Not really. I despise what he's done – to me, of all people – but I don't hate him. He hates me, though. I see him in the hallways, or at lunch, and he's only ever looked at us – the _slimy Slytherins _– with disgust."

He fisted his hands with anger, "I'm his bloody brother. We were best friends until he went to Hogwarts. Then, stupid house prejudices and people changed him completely. I don't know him anymore!" He relaxed slightly, slumping, "I miss him, sometimes. But I wouldn't want to be around him now. His friends aren't the best. Foolish, reckless Gryffindors. It will all split at the seams for those four."

He looked down at his friend, "but not for us. Nope. Never for us."

And the puppet looked up at him with a blank stare that, to him, told him everything he wanted it to.

**I fear he may be out of character – Regulus, that is – but it's my first time writing him. Originally, it was going to be Barty Jr who he spoke to, but I thought the puppet would fit, for some reason.**

**Leave a review, thanks. C:**

_**Words: **__272_

_**Posted: **__9__th__ February 2013_


	2. A Day

**The Diagon Alley Challenge**

_**Madame Malkin's Robe Shop: **__When you go into Madame Malkin's, you try something new on. Try writing a story about somebody trying something new._

"How about this one?" She called over to him, picking out a suit from the rack and going over to the changing rooms. They were lucky it wasn't a busy day and only another person was trying on formal attire.

"I don't think-"He protested in vain, already seeing his fiancé bring in another suit. This time; a horrid white one. He all but tossed the other grey suit at her, hating that one too.

"Yes," she retorted as she handed it to him, receiving the other one to return it to its rack, "Well I do. It's Ginny and Harry's wedding – try to fit in a bit."

With a childish pout, he changed into the white suit, grimacing at his reflection. "Well, I don't see why I can't just wear _normal _dress robes," he sulked. He showed his girlfriend the suit, and was relieved to see she didn't like it either. In fact, she quickly ran out to find yet _another _suit.

He groaned as she spoke to him loudly. "Because, Ronald, he asked us to wear muggle clothing. He asked everyone he invited to do so as well."

He changed out of the suit, and handed it to her through the curtain. He waited for her to return with the other one, the fifth already, and put it on. "Yeah, well, I don't get why we should all wear these things just for one or two muggles." He grinned as he saw his reflection – this suit was more similar to the robes than the other four. "Hey, 'Mione, look at these."

"Ron!" She'd begun, "show _some _respect to, err, Dudley and his fiancé. They're actually not bad people... It's called growing up." She stopped at seeing the robes, "they're not bad..." She trailed off thoughtfully, before agreeing. "We'll get this one then."

Ron sighed in relief as he changed back to his normal clothes and followed Hermione to the shoe section. This would be faster.

.~.

He moaned out loud, complaining. "Hermioneee, how long does it take to pick out a pair of shoes?!"

He quietened down with her glare, but still sat on the chair slumping, his chosen shoes next to his own suit. "Couldn't you get them while you go with Ginny next Saturday?" He tried.

She looked up from the display and, luckily for him, agreed. "You're right, she'd be much more help than you are."

He puffed up indignantly, "hey! I'm a big help!"

Condescendingly, she patted his arm. "It's all right, I'll just go pay for this and we'll go."

"Yes! Finally we can go back home." He smiled, "shopping with you- with _anyone_," he corrected quickly, "is a nightmare!"

Hermione smiled back at him, "well, I wanted to try that new restaurant close by, but if you want to go back, I guess we could. We're done here." She picked at the plastic of one of her bags.

"Now, now, Hermione," he back tracked hastily, "I never said I wasn't hungry. Of course, I'm _starving_!"

"I don't know, I'm feeling quite tired myself..." She laughed at his expression, pretending to give in. She kissed him lightly and handed the bags over to him. "Let's go!" She grabbed his hand and led him to the restaurant, chuckling when he complained about shopping with her. "Lazy bones," she teased him.

"But, alas," he acted mournful, "not all of us can be as chipper as you, 'Mione."

"I'm not chipper, just happy."

"With me? Who'd have thought?" He gasped.

"Everyone, apparently."

**Not a big fan of Romonie, but I've given it a try. Challenging myself, you see. **

_**Words: **__585_

_**Posted: **__9__th__ February 2013_


	3. To Harry

**The Diagon Alley Challenge**

_Eeylops Owl Emporium: Owls are used for communication. Your task is to write something involving owls or communication. Anything from a letter between wizards to somebody using the 'fellytone'._

**13****th**** October 1981**

Harry James Potter,

As I'm writing this, you are sleeping soundly in your cot, unaware of the dangers that are to come – to you especially. A prophecy was told, some time ago, of a young boy born by the death of July, who would defeat _Voldemort_ with 'power he knows not'.

For the last almost three weeks, we have been living here, almost in total isolation from the world. Only the weekly visits from Padfoot keep us sane. Wormtail visits every so often, but always less and less. And Remus, well, he hasn't seen us since our first day.

We think – and it does pain me to say it, think it or write it – that _he _is the spy. We cannot afford losing you – we hope _Voldemort _decides you are not the child of the prophecy.

But we can't risk it, so here we are. Hiding; like cowards.

You don't know how badly we want to be fighting those Death Eater scum, but you, my son, come first. You're our everything.

There's so much I want to teach you. You'd make a spectacular Quidditch player – I hope so. It'd be just my luck for you to have inherited your mother's distaste for the sport. But I doubt it; you seemed to enjoy the toy broomstick Padfoot gave you for Christmas.

But, for now, I shan't think of the future. I'll make the most of my time with you now – and dearly hope I have years of it left.

Just remember, whenever you read this, or even when you're not reading this;

I love you.

Love; your dad.

**29****th**** October 1981**

_My son, Harry._

_I fear our time together may be drawing to a close. As much as I wish it weren't, it's inevitable. I am unsure if it's a matter of days or weeks, but, before it's too late, I want to write you this letter, to explain everything._

_I started off as a young girl, excited to learn magic and meet new people – wizards and witches. I was naive and unaware of the prejudices. My long time friend, Severus Snape, had been, for a while, a concrete link to this World. He had stories of magic and of wonder, and I felt so happy._

_But we got sorted into opposite houses. We were expected to fight at every turn, but we refused to throw away our friendship for such a petty reason. We stuck through it all, even when your father and his friends pranked – and sometimes bullied – Slytherins over the years. I'm sad to say Severus was one of them._

_It was hard, but we made it work. We stayed friends and we did not separate. We had our differences, but they were never major. Until O.W.L. year. As I'm sure you know, fifth year is when the Ordinary Wizarding Levels are taken. Pressures were running high for everyone except for James and his band of friends. They embarrassed Severus more than they had before, and, I believe, his pride was hurt further when _I _went to defend him. _

_After five years of the Slytherins as a bad influence, I wasn't surprised he'd caught such a bad vocabulary – but it shocked me how he directed it at me._

_I was so hurt, I ran the opposite direction for him, and, for years, never forgave him. He begged forgiveness, but I got closer to the Marauders – your father group – and ignored him. In seventh year, he gave up, and I started to go out with a less arrogant James Potter._

_Now, years later, I see how prideful I'd been. He'd been most of his time around a bad crowd and I didn't help him at all. Now he's a bitter, bitter man who'd made the wrong decisions. But he's still only young. _

_Harry, my dear, if you ever meet him, please ask for forgiveness to him, from me. He may not give it, but ask. _

_Lily Potter-Evans._

**31****st**** October 1981**

_I feel tonight's the night, my son, and I may never see you again after this. Not your smile, not your eyes which are so like mine, not you. I shall miss your laugh, I only hope Sirius and Remus look after you well, and that, if I'm right, Peter Pettigrew is thrown in Azkaban for this._

_Oh, my darling, there was so much I wanted to tell you, to teach you. I can only hope you meet someone who loves you for you in the future. _

_Remember this, we do love you. I love you and so does your father. Ever since that beautiful day you were born-_

_He's here. I'm so sorry_

The letter cuts off suddenly, as if she had stopped writing. The last few words were hastily scribbled and hard to recognise. The edges of the parchments are charred, as if they had all been hidden from a fire, apart from the bottom side. 

**I like some parts, actually. Review with your thoughts on this and read my other ones.**

_**Words: **__778_

_**Posted: **__10__th__ October 2013_


	4. Discontent

**The Diagon Alley Challenge**

_Second Hand Shop:_ _The Weasleys are found buying things here. Write a story based on them. Alternatively, second hand can mean old. Your task is to write something pre-Trio era._

Molly Prewett was a fairly short girl, with a short temper and a loud voice. She was the kind of child that was heard whether the adults wanted to hear her or not. She, and her young twin brothers, gave the parents many headaches, so it was with guilty relief that they celebrated when Gideon and Fabian followed their sister into Hogwarts three years after her.

By her sixth year, she had slightly mellowed out, although she remained as short as ever. Although she wasn't chubby or fat by any means, her height meant she looked a couple of years younger than she was.

Arthur Weasley, a boy who, younger than her, was at least a few inches taller than her, was her schoolgirl crush. Eventually it morphed into love, and she could barely look at him without blushing even a bit at first.

He was the opposite of her, personality wise. He was always quite mellow and calm and all around accepting of things, and he had, since his childhood, a fascination with muggles. In fact, he was the most dedicated student in the muggle studies class. He wasn't a Quidditch player, nor was he the smartest and/or the best looking guy near her age.

They met by coincidence. Her friend had a sister in the year below, who'd known Arthur, and they met on an average day in fifth year. There was no special event, or unusual weather. It was a normal day in May, sunny but with the odd cloud.

Their relationship progressed slowly at first. They became friends after a while, but everything went twice as fast in regards to their romantic relationship.

One day they were friends and, quite literally, the next they were in love and acting as if they'd been together for months, not hours. Naturally, people thought it weird, but no one suspected foul play on either's part.

They graduated, and got married and had children, starting with Bill. Arthur went on to work at the Ministry, and Molly was a stay at home mum, enjoying the cooking and the not-so-menial tasks she did.

Every night, Arthur would return from work at ten and, together, they would eat dinner and converse, keeping an ear out in case the babies awoke. Then, they went to sleep, until Arthur woke up early and left for work at eight.

On and on, it was a constant cycle, and he was soon getting called in at weekends. The Death Eaters seemed to enjoy preying on unsuspecting muggles, so Arthur worked overtime for months.

Molly, naturally, felt lonely, but she did well to hide it. She busied herself with taking care of Bill and Charlie, who were growing up quickly, and seemed to like each other well enough, but she still felt bored and discontent with her life at present.

She was fine with her children, but she'd thought her education would've led her to do something else. Her daily repertoire of spells only included cleaning and cooking spells, as well as those to avoid her children getting injured too much. It was dull, and without her husband's presence, she was getting restless.

After all, she was still young.

So, as frequently as she could, she would leave her children with a friend, and she would apparate to the muggle world, where she took up a collection of cooking courses. She learnt not to use her wand, and she made some acquaintances. It wasn't perfect, but it was different.

**My entry for the challenge stated up above. I'm really not happy with this entry, but I've been procrastinating for too long, and I'm just going to post it now. **

_**Words: 582**_

_**Posted: 10**__**th**__** March 2013**_


	5. Sympathetic

The Diagon Alley Challenge

_**Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour:** Ice creams come in different flavours. Maybe people, places and situations can too? Write something non-canon._

* * *

He could sympathise with her. It was all too easy for him.

And he hated it so very much.

But how could he not, seeing as the only reason he felt this way was because, regretfully, he'd suffered the same not a year before.

His only relief was that the tormentor was truly dead.

But he looked in the mirror, and he only saw Greyback. He couldn't see himself anymore. He wasn't Bill Weasley, he was just another victim.

It pained him to look at her, at Lavender, because she wasn't Lavender Brown anymore. To herself, she was also another tally mark on a long list of innocent lives scarred by that damned werewolf.

He'd never been so proud of his younger brother, Percy, who, having reconciled with his family in the midst of the battle that May, had managed to rid the world of that infernal character permanently.

But it came with a price, as it was Lavender herself who'd distracted Greyback long enough for Percy to finish him off. Her face would now be forever scarred by the man, and, he suspected, she would feel nothing but resentment, however irrational, for everyone who hadn't been there to help her.

Somewhere, he knew, she understood _why _she'd done it: she'd saved other people, however few they would be, from suffering the curse. His only regret was that he hadn't done the same to stop him previously.

But, regardless, they lived on. Fleur had long since run off with Charlie, with them visiting infrequently, but he was too busy to actually mourn her loss. He knew that he wouldn't really miss her anyways.

But the years after the battle were better than the ones before. They had all suffered losses – it pained him so much to see how empty George was ever since Fred died – but they remembered everyone who died and new traditions were made.

He still visited the Burrow, but he found himself living with Lavender, off all people, but he knew they would get along. And they did. On full moons, Hermione sometimes visited, just to make sure they were alright – the fact that they lived in an apartment on the outskirts of Essex was also helpful.

He had long since given up his share of Shell Cottage, and, with no lingering hard feelings at all, had handed it to Charlie. Maybe they would get a happy ending together.

Life went on, however, and every year it seemed to get a bit better. Never did they get truly over the loss of fellow friends and family and classmates and teachers, but they handled the losses much better; and, when May came around every year since, _every one _of them went to Hogwarts, to pay commiserations to the brave souls who'd died in battle.

It wasn't easy, but he began to accept how he was. It was difficult, after more than two decades of looking _normal_, he now looked as if he were mauled by a wolf. It was ironic, he thought, when people commented on that tactlessly. He had long since refused to feel offended by those people.

But, even so, Lavender wasn't even close to acceptance. She was stuck on anger and denial, and she was constantly destroying all the mirrors in the apartment, then buying new ones. It was a vicious cycle, and he felt he had to do something.

He didn't understand how much she prided herself on her appearance, and how much she valued it, but he could understand the rage, and he worked on that first. He calmed her down as much as he could, until she could be considered ready to _finally _deal with the harsh reality.

He didn't want to do it, but he knew it was for the best.

And, secretly, a part of him just wanted to kiss her

But she wasn't yet ready.

Not yet.

* * *

**I'm happier with this entry, actually. **

**Much, much happier than with the previous one...**

**Review and favourite, if you please.**

* * *

_**Words: **__648_

_**Posted: **__10__th__ March 2013_

**Characters: **Bill Weasley, Lavender Brown


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